The Darker End of Night
by Coronfrim Crelumin
Summary: Harry thought he knew Lupin well, but everyone has secrets, some darker than others. Betrayal and blackmail are just two of the things Harry never wanted to uncover in Lupin's past.
1. Prologue

The Darker End of Night

Prologue

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Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or places in this fic. They are all the property of JK Rowling.**

**A/N:** Got a few warnings to give you here, although it's an M rated fic so… Swearing, slash, sexual content. Uh… I think that's all for now. I'll mention later if there are any new one's to add.

For anyone who's reading this for the Lucius content, don't worry. He'll be here next chapter, just not the prologue. Do not despair! Anyway, on with the mayhem…

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Harry pushed the door open a crack, hearing thumping mingled with spurts of mild curses from inside; he hadn't known Lupin was back. For a second, paranoia leapt keenly, if irrationally, into his mind – Deatheaters? Had they somehow got inside? He almost jumped out of his skin at a sudden loud crash from the other side of the door. The exclamation that followed, however, put his racing mind at ease.

"Blast!" No Deatheater. Harry held back a soft laugh, trying to ignore his amusement at the man's inability to swear. Shoving the door open further, the boy stuck his head into the room, grinning at Lupin, sitting amid a swarm of cardboard boxes, looking particularly disgruntled.

"Alright, Lupin?" Harry managed, still just keeping back laughter. The man did not appear amused.

"Oh, hello. It's you." Despite his best efforts, Lupin did ot miss the almost-smirk dancing at the corners of Harry's mouth. "Well, if you've nothing more helpful to do than gloat at my unhappy accident, Harry-" Harry saw that one of the boxes seemed to have fallen, spilling its neatly packed contents, landing on Lupin's foot which he was clutching bitterly. "- then I must ask you to leave. I am extremely busy." He winced as the injured foot gave way to another twinge of pain. The offending smile was squashed apologetically as the boy eased himself into the room.

"Sorry. Need a hand?" That was greeted coldly. "Here." Leaning down, Harry offered an arm and pulled the man to his… foot. With considerable hobbling, the pair made their way to an armchair and Lupin was deposited carefully into it, rubbing his wounded appendage.

Harry knelt by the broken box and started to assemble its escaped contents; around him were all sorts of strange items he had never seen before, but after seven years in the wizarding world little surprised him the way it had done once upon a time. What _did _puzzle him was, what was all this stuff doing strewn haphazardly around Lupin's impeccably tidy room? He voiced as much as he was picking up a book on which faded letters read "A Practical Study of Vampyres by Drake Valemos"

"What's all this stuff doing here, Lupin?" A book entitled "Spirits of the Ice: Secrets of Siberia" was eyeing him malevolently. Lupin sighed.

"Moving. Since I've been spending so much time here recently – pass me my wand, Harry, there's a good boy - I thought it seemed only sensible that my things come with me." Something occurred to him. "I… I do hope you don't object, Harry. I know this house is really still-"

Harry cut him short without so much as looking up. "It's not mine. I don't want it." There was a sullen pause. "I didn't want any of Sirius' things." At just the appropriate moment, Kreacher barked something incomprehensible on the floor below.

"No. I can see why you wouldn't want him to deal with, in particular." Lupin commented, to fill the silence that swept in after the shout.

"There, that's better." He set his wand down on the arm of the chair at his side and gave the foot a tentative prod. "Never underestimate the use of a common or garden healing charm, Harry." Once he had levered himself up out of the char, he started to shunt a few of the boxes into slightly better order. From somewhere he produced a bar of chocolate and threw a chunk of it to Harry, gnawing casually on his own as he sorted through his massed possessions, tsking every so often – at some especially pointless item or just at the sheer quantity of it all. "Another thing worth remembering, Harry, is that it never occurs to you how much you own until you try to move the blessed stuff. It's the sort of life lesson I am considerably prone to forgetting." Harry made no reply, for a moment, keeping his attention peculiarly fixed on the collection of potion ingredients he was unpacking into rows that were as neat as he could manage amid the chaos.

"You don't have to do that, you know."

"Do what, Harry?" The boy still didn't try to meet the man's eyes.

"Talk like Dumbledore, I mean. Try to teach me life lessons by talking about slightly excessive book collections. It's the sort of thing he would have done and, well, don't."

Lupin's expression morphed into one of honest surprise. "Why, Harry, I assure you I never meant to do anything of the kind. It hadn't even come to my notice that I was-"

"Bullshit."

Lupin didn't try to correct him again. He finished the box he was emptying and then stood back surveying their progress. "Well, I call this a success so far. How about a break? I might have some butterbeer around here somewhere, or would you prefer tea?"

"Either's fine." Lupin, feeling the interaction slipping out of his grasp, picked his way through the mayhem to where a tea set stood on a shelf. He took two cups and saucers down from their places, set them down on the table and, with a flick of his wand, filled them both with steaming tea. A bowl of sugar stood there already and Lupin dropped a lump into each before carrying the tea back to where Harry was kneeling, still, on the floor. The boy accepted his cup wordlessly, leaving it next to him while he continued to go through the box to which he was then attending. The last book to be withdrawn appeared to be a photograph album, he realized, curiosity sparked into interest. Not bothering to glance over his shoulder to see whether Lupin was watching, he flipped open the cover, greeted instantly by a picture of four teenage boys. All of them grinning and waving. A small smile ghosted over Harry's lips as he identified each of them – the first was a skinny boy with a thick wave of blonde hair hanging mostly in his face. The pair of arms wrapped tightly around his waist belonged to a boy of similar build but with a shaggy mane of glossy black hair and dark, stormy blue eyes. Next to them, a boy with a pointed, mouse-like face and light brown hair – no prizes for recognizing the soon-to-be-traitorous Peter Pettigrew. And the other boy… well, it could have been Harry, but for the eyes; James' eyes were a pale, speckled grey, where his son's were to be vibrant green. Resisting the morbid attraction of losing himself in that picture – father, guardian, friend and murderer – he turned the page.

The next picture… he had to stop. His godfather and Lupin were quite alone in this picture and, as far as Harry could see, neither was in the least distressed by this state of things… He was still staring at the picture, confusion and shock marked on his face, when a hand reached past his shoulder and knocked the book shut with a snap.

"You need a break, Harry. Drink your tea." Not wanting to see Lupin's expression, he pushed the book away and picked up the cup with his eyes lowered – though his gaze was drawn continuously back to the worn leather cover. The silence, except for the hesitant clink of cup against saucer, swallowed the room, forcing voices back into constricted throats. Only when even the pretence of being absorbed in tea-based activity had been utterly expended did Lupin rise, somewhat wearily, from his chair and put the cup away. Harry quickly followed suit and resumed his determined helpfulness.

"Well, 'd say we're about halfway there. What do you say to-"

"You and Sirius." The flatly accusing comment caught Lupin off his stride and he stumbled on it.

"I, uh, don't believe I know what-"

"Stop that!" Harry spun around, fixing Lupin with a glare born of hurt and… betrayal. "Stop acting like you don't know what I'm talking about! You and Sirius were… together, and _neither _of you bothered to tell me! And I _sick _of it! Everyone acts like I don't need to know anything, like I'm fragile or unstable or something! Dumbledore was never like that. With _anyone. _He _trusted _people." It seemed then that Harry realized where his outburst and was trying to pull the conversation back to safer, more solid ground. "What do you want moving next?" But Lupin's face had gone pale.

"Harry, neither Sirius nor I intended to keep that from you. But our relationship – that relationship ended a long time ago. Before you were born. We didn't think there was any point in telling you." His voice hardened – from apology to reproof. "In any case, something you obviously have yet to learn is that adults, even teachers, have secrets they'd rather remained secret. I have them, Sirius had them, so did your parents and so, quite definitely, did your saintly Dumbledore. He didn't tell you everything, Harry, and not because he trusted you or because he didn't. Some secrets have to be kept. If they weren't…" Here he trailed off, his expression vacant and unreadable, finding himself on quicksand again and wondering if it might be simpler just to sink and have done with it.

"What?"

The man shook himself and turned away, busying himself with a fresh box. "People would get hurt. That's what. Don't argue with me, Harry." The boy said no more. They were quietly until everything was unpacked and sorted except for something standing by the fire place, a dust sheet slung over it and a shoe box at its foot. Lupin – his mood quite altered – positively skipped towards it. A look of almost childish glee lit his face as he pulled away the sheet with a flourish. "This is one of my treasures Harry. You're parents gave it to me many years ago. It's a pensieve!"

"I know." Harry recognized it, but the stand in which it rested was exceptionally beautiful – far more splendid than the one in Dumbledore's office. He had never seen one like it. Silver bars wound softly around a column of marble, holding a fine china basin. Harry's dull acknowledgement seemed to have sucked some of the wind from Lupin's enthusiasm – he appeared deflated.

"Yes, of course you do. I should have guessed." He seemed to recover his excitement soon enough and once again fell to fussing carefully over the device. "Harry, pass me that box, will you?" The shoe box had been pushed to one side but Harry located it easily enough, half obscured by the discarded dust sheet. He held it out, absently inspecting its tattered corners and faded label; it was peeling, he noted without interest.

"Thank you. I only hope none of them are broken. The floo trip wasn't as gentle as it might have been. I think a few people may need to sweep their chimneys, but never mind that now." He leant over to grab his wand from the arm of the chair and moved the pensieve, complete with its stand, over to the wall. Next to it, on top of a low bookcase, Lupin set the bow down and began to remove its contents; its contents was a selection of small corked bottles, filled with silver liquid – Lupin's memories.

Curiosity drew Harry to Lupin's shoulder, peering closely at the labels – all marked by the man's enviably neat hand. Around every third of them bore a tiny black star in the corner. Of course, it was on these that the boy's eyes caught. "What does the star mean?" The words had crept out of his mouth before he had the discretion to swallow them down. Lupin visibly tensed, though his hand continued its motion between box and bookcase.

"Memories aren't always stored to be revisited, Harry. Sometimes… you just don't want them in your head anymore." No more was said on the matter. Lupin did not seem to be inviting comment and Harry was in no hurry to provide one.

After a while, Harry left; he had finished his study of the meticulous titles, some with their little black stars, while Lupin had fiddled about with old books, ink pots and bits of parchment that didn't seem to fit anywhere, and then he went. There seemed no point in doing otherwise.

Lupin and Tonks had gone to visit Bill in St. Mungo's, leaving Harry alone in the house – after much persuasion – with Ron at home with his family and Hermione with him. Kreacher was his only company. The house elf had screamed bloody murder when Harry had caught him trying to burn a portrait of Dumbledore – some well-wishing Auror in the business of building shrines had put it up and no one had had the heart to take it down. This activity had, of course, started all the hall portraits off in a clamor. Harry had retreated to the upper floors and paced a corridor for an hour trying to invent a silencing charm. The pursuit coming up unsuccessful, he resolved upon distraction somehow; at this point even studying sounded preferable to listening to this racket – well, come to that an audio version of Guilderoy Lockhart's autobiography read by the author would make a passable alternative to this hellish chorus.

Vampires. Or vampyres. They were a subject he could do with some knowledge of, his mind rationalizing any way to get him away from the noise and the nearest book on vampires he knew of was the one in Lupin's room. On the top floor.

As Harry made his way up the dim stairs, an old image from the Daily Prophet swam into his head. The one with a gaunt face and deep shadowed eyes and matted hair. It looked like a vampire, though it was no such thing. It did not look like Sirius.

Lupin's was the only room up here, turned into a livable space especially for his use, when Sirius had still been…

Anyway. Lupin's room was spotless again, the boxes all cleared. In this compulsive order, the book wasn't hard to find – Lupin's books were all alphabetically shelved (it was disgusting) – but as Harry reached out for it, another volume snatched his gaze. The leather-bound album was on the shelf above – just in Harry's eyeline. It was too much to resist, with that image of Sirius still haunting his head. With a guilty glance over his shoulder – though Lupin would be gone for a good few hours yet – he slipped it furtively from its place and took it to the nearest chair, held close against his chest, concealed from eyes that weren't there to see it. There were no portraits in this room and no one else to report his invasion. Even Kreacher would stay away, his absolute loathing for anything connected with "that foul werewolf" he considered a defilement of his Mistress' house with it's presence. He objected to Lupin more than anyone, except for Harry and Hermione the mudblood. No, Kreacher wouldn't be interrupting this.

The book fell open gently on his knees. There it was again, crumpled and with some of the edges clumsily taped together. It seemed strange to Harry that they had not been magically repaired. In fact, magic used carelessly on photographs made them blur, but Harry was in no position to have known this, and it wasn't difficult to see why this picture was wanted intact.

It had been taken in the Gryffindor common room, gloomy but for the glowing fire. The main armchair in front of the hearth was taken by two boys; a blonde sitting curled up in the lap of a dark-haired boy. Photo-Lupin looked up from a kiss, which looked like it could have appeared in the same sentence as the word "earth-shattering" without much inaccuracy, to glare darkly at, presumably, whoever was taking the picture. The pause was not a long one, though, before his attentions turned back to more compelling things, his fingers buried deep in Sirius' hair. Harry turned away from that page, resentment at the pair's deceit rising threateningly. He wondered bitterly if Tonks was aware of this… this whatever-it-was lurking in her boyfriend's past.

The next page did a little to dispel Harry's black mood, but not much. There were five figures in this one. James was closest to the camera, a red-headed girl perched on his lap. Both of them were grinning happily. Next to them, the insatiable couple were _still _kissing. Peter sat behind them all, smiling more in embarrassment than anything else, it seemed. He kept shooting sideways looks at Lupin and Sirius.

When the next four pages showed up nothing more compelling, most of the photos following rather a pattern, Harry clapped the book shut in frustration and annoyance and returned it to its place, making sure that even Lupin wouldn't realize that it had been moved. Then he looked around aimlessly. The flare for some independent research had died in that short time, as useful urges always do, and new amusement was required.

His eye fell upon the coveted pensieve and its neatly arranged collection of memories. The bottles were finer than those Harry remembered from Dumbledore's office, fluted, the glass clearer, tinted pale green. They clinked gently against each other as he trailed his fingertips down the line. One caught his interest as he peered at each in turn. Resolutely, taunting his irritation in a way that someone callously tests a thundercloud-bruise, "Christmas with Sirius" was plucked from its place.

The place Harry had found himself in was a small park, taking up the centre of a town square. There was a blanket of thick, soft snow on every surface and a few flakes still falling; Harry's feet made no imprints on the white ground.

He had only been standing there a minute when Lupin appeared, huddled up in a coat and a huge, green scarf. The hair was long, like in the pictures, lying over his shoulders, partly falling in his eyes. He stopped in the middle of the park and looked longingly at the snow-covered bench as he waited. But he didn't have to wait long. With a crack, Sirius appeared a step or so behind him and slipped his arms around his waist before Lupin could turn. Scarf barring him from his lover's neck, he leant over the boy's shoulder to brush his lips lightly over the pale cheek.

"Merry Christmas, love." Lupin's face melted into a goofy smile as he leant back into the other's embrace, allowing Sirius' arms to pull tighter around him.

"Merry Christmas." He twisted in his boyfriend's arms to smile at him, a good-humored look of puzzlement appearing as Sirius withdrew his arms to rummage urgently through his pockets for a few seconds.

"Damn."

"What's up, love?"

"Forgot my mistletoe." Lupin giggled. It wasn't a sound Harry had ever expected (or wanted) to hear his friend and former-teacher make but…. There it was. Maybe if he just pretended he'd never heard it…

"Don't worry. I'm sure it won't be such a terrible hardship kissing you with the mistletoe. Anyway, just means you've got another free hand, right?" Harry looked away in revulsion. That last comment had been considerably more than he had _ever ever ever _wanted to hear from Lupin. Gah!

It was not, of course, that he was disgusted by the idea, or even the sight of two males kissing. But it was Lupin and Sirius! And they hadn't even thought to _mention _it to him.

The festive romance scene continued through the giving of presents and more kissing before, finally and after a last lingering kiss that made Harry feel remarkably ill, the couple broke apart and Sirius vanished. As Lupin turned to go, Harry caught the glow of happiness on his face. Then he was back in Lupin's room, staggering a little from his return. He replaced the bottle carefully, label straight on, just as it had been.

Almost instantly, another grabbed his attention.

_No, _some voice of better judgment muttered at him. _They're his memories. You can't just snoop through them! It's bad enough that you're in here without permission in the first place. _

But it was countered hissingly. _Don't you want to know what else he's been keeping from you? _

Before his conscience could make any return, "Betrayal" – complete with its dark-inked star - had found itself unaccountably in his hand.

The surroundings were familiar this time. The common room didn't seem to have changed much between James' era and Harry's. It was dark, even the fire almost dead. A quick look at the clock told Harry that it was nearly midnight. Still, there were voices from above, further up the tower. Moments later two figures came down the boys' stairs. They were almost running but clearly making a conscious effort to keep their steps muffled; it looked some task. In fact, Harry knew from experience how difficult it was. _He _had yet to master the skill, but these two looked like experts.

"Sirius, go back to bed. I've got nothing to say to you!"

"But I've got something to say to you! It was joke, Remus! A _joke_!"

Lupin looked older now, his hair tugged back into a neat ponytail; he stopped and stared at the boy blocking his path. "Sirius, I could have killed him." Sirius tried to interrupt but he was knocked back. "If it hadn't been for James, I'd be a murderer. Is that what you wanted?" He didn't let Sirius reply but pushed straight past him and out of the portrait hole, leaving the boy to stare after him. It was just light enough to see a tear roll down his cheek.

"I'm sorry, Remus…"

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A/N: So, thus we start. As I promised earlier, there will be Lucius-ness next chapter.**

I really hope you guys enjoyed this. And here I would candidly like to mention that reviews make me very very very happy. –nods- If you would be so kind…


	2. First Quarter part 1

**The Darker End of Night**

**First Quarter pt.1**

**Disclaimer: See prologue.**

**A/N: Reviews most welcome. Think that's about all I have to say right now. On with the ficage!**

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Lupin stormed away through the darkness, ears straining for the sound of following footsteps. But none came. He didn't worry that anyone would catch him out of bed at this hour; no one bothered to patrol the corridors during the corridors much during the holidays, particularly when half of the Marauders had gone. James was spending Christmas with Lily's family and Peter had been swept off to the Algarve. And he, Lupin, had expected two weeks alone with Sirius to be paradise… but _that, _of course, was before his end-of-term prank. **

**As he had predicted, he got all the way down to the entrance hall without being stopped and slipped soundlessly out of the door. He pulled his robes closer around him against the cold but it made little difference. The air smelt of frost and mist was coiling around the foot of the Forbidden Forest. **

**Harry, following, had to jog to keep up with Lupin as he headed away from the castle, across the grounds. He could hear the boy muttering to himself. "Merlin, I can't believe him this time! Yes, let's let Severus walk in on a werewolf. Let's get a student killed and turn my boyfriend into a murderer. That'll be fun!" For all that he was trying to be angry, his voice was thick with tears and shuddering miserably with the cold. "Did I say anything when he wanted to dye Dumbledore's robes bright pink? Did I stop him setting Rupole's pixies loose in the Ravenclaws' common room? Or jinxing Davis' broomstick? Or when he suspended Mrs. Norris over the lake? Of course I didn't. But Sirius Black has always got to take it that bit too far, hasn't he?" Lupin looked up and found himself on the edge of the Forest. Harry stopped a few feet away, expecting him to stop and go back. Not so. With an anxious glance back at the castle, he ducked among the trees. **

**Squinting through his tears, he dug his fists deep in his pockets, one of them emerging a second later holding a fold of paper. He stared at it, for what felt like hours but could not have been more than seconds. The he let it fall. It fluttered to the ground and he kept walking. Behind him, a hand lifted the photograph from the muddy path. **

"**Master Lupin, I never knew you for carelessness." **

**Harry's stomach twisted in a horror of familiarity. The sarcastic roll on each measured word – perfect in a way its offspring's would not be – the affected tilt of the head; Harry knew every stroke of diligently painted superiority. But he knew the son. This was the sire. **

**Lupin stopped and, if Harry read that cruel flicker of amusement correctly, the he had not been the only one to hear the boy's unquenchable gasp of surprise. "Malfoy, taken to stalking me?" He didn't turn back; Malfoy was _not_ going to see that he was crying. He stood motionless and listened to the slow, dry laugh. **

"**Stalk you, Lupin? I think not. You aren't nearly interesting enough, I'm afraid, What _does_ interest me, though, is why a well-behaved, mild-mannered little Gryffindor, a prefect no less, is rushing into the Forbidden Forest in the dead of night. Care to volunteer a solution?" **

"**No. Care to tell me how you knew I was out here?" He turned slowly, face bound into grim indifference, and found Lucius smiling. **

"**Oh, you didn't think you and your musketeers were the only ones to do any raiding were you?" At the skeptical raised eyebrow he received, he gave another of those laughs. "Oh, no, of course I didn't do it personally. It was a friend of mine. He's handy at picking up the odd little thing. In this case, it was a map." He paused, looking for his reaction. "Rather a curious map, too. All these moving dots on it. Most peculiar." Still holding the photograph in one hand, he reached inside his robes and brought out a roll of parchment. "I wonder which of you forgot to clear it and then left it lying around. I suppose you _can _clear it? Of course you can, you're far too clever to leave it otherwise. Would you like to venture a guess? Or perhaps it was you. Now I know your true haphazard nature, nothing would escape my imagination." **

"**Give me that map, Malfoy." The command went unheeded. **

"**No, I don't think I will, Lupin. It's extremely useful, but then you knew that of course." It appeared he was noticing Lupin's raised wand for the first time… "Planning to fight me for it? Come now, Lupin, you know I'm a better duelist than you. We've found that out before, haven't we." He looked around him at the dark trees and the empty night and he smiled. "Oh, but, no James t rescue you now. No Sirius to avenge you either." **

**Lucius stopped for a moment to chuckle softly to himself, as though something terribly humorous had just occurred to him – as, indeed, it had. "Though, I suppose you aren't so very anxious for dear Sirius' aid. Are you? No, you're not in the best of moods with him. Lovers' spat, was it? What did he do?" **

**Lupin continued to glare at him, not dropping his wand. "Fuck you, Malfoy."**

**Another laugh. "Did he really? I should have thought I would remember something like that. In any case, I should start being a little more civil to me, if I were you, Lupin." The sentence dropped into the air between them with the heavy malignancy of a lead sledgehammer. **

**Lupin raised an eyebrow, believing it for empty bravado and relaxing on the strength of it. "Oh?" **

**Now it was Malfoy's face that was cold and sullen. "Yes, you ought to tread more carefully around me. I've eard some interesting things this evening, Lupin. I know a few choice facts about you and your boyfriend that I imagine you'd both like kept quiet. Do you follow me? …werewolf?" He ensconced himself firmly in a laurel throne and waited patiently for his words to take root. **

**Lupin was not quick enough to conceal the momentary flicker of panic that shot through his face. "What do you think you can prove, Malfoy?" It wasn't what he wanted to ask. What the panicking creature inside him wanted to asked _"What do you want?" _but he was too afraid to ask and, anyway, all wasn't lost yet. He waited for an answer, fretting over the tremor in his voice. **

"**I can prove anything I like, Lupin." came the airy reply. "For instance," Slowly putting the map away and bringing out, instead, his wand. "Reparto!" **

**The tip of the wand glowed white and, amid a low hum, Lupin listened in horror to his own voice. **

**_Yes, let's let Severus walk in on a werewolf. Let's get a student killed and turn my boyfriend into a murderer…_**

**His eyes flicking mockingly to Lupin's face for a moment, Lucius gave another command and the sound sped up into a high-pitched whine. A third word and it slowed, became Lupin's voice once more. **

**_Sirius Black has always got to take it that bit too far…_**

"**Retto." The voice and the hum fell away, leaving Lupin and Malfoy staring at each other in silence. "You know there's more, don't you? I have here a pretty comprehensive list of your boyfriend's crimes, which I think any teacher would be glad to be informed of, don't you? Some of those weren't harmless pranks, Lupin. With nothing more than this wand I could have you both expelled. And, my word, I wonder what poor, sickly Mrs. Lupin would think of that." He smirked at the agony of defeat dulling Lupin's eyes and took a step closer to him. "But it doesn't have to be that way. I'm sure the appropriate price could ensure my silence…" His lip's curled in the easy grin of the predator whose prey has nowhere left to run. **

**Panic won out at last. "What do you want?" Half of him was shouting at himself, to curse the cocky bastard, steal his wand and run; that half was Sirius. The other half was quite silent. **

**Unrepentant glee lit up Malfoy's cruelly smug face. "Well, let's start with a few more manners from you." He studied Lupin thoughtfully for a second. "I don't l like the way you call me by my last name. You somehow manage to make it sound insubordinate. And anyway, it keeps me at such a distance. Call me Lucius, there's a good boy. As for after that… I'll be in touch." **

**Lupin shook his head silence. What had he done? "This is a long way from over, Malfoy." Oh Merlin, that ridiculous streak of defiance – that was Sirius too. Would that boy cause him _nothing_ but grief? **

**Malfoy appeared only cursorily amused. "No, I assure you it is not, Lupin. And you _will _address me by my first name, or you may find yourself kissing your darling Sirius goodbye. And I'm sure you'll believe me when I tell you that I'm just… itching to have that troublesome boy out of here. He has embarrassed me too many times." **

**This gave Lupin a flicker of guilty, crawling hope. Futile and ungrounded, too, but… "If you're so eager to be rid of him, why bother with me?" What was he _doing?_ There were wolves on his tail and he was throwing Sirius off the sleigh. Lucius' smile broadened; any excuse for the mastermind to extend his motives. He had, after all, a reputation to uphold. "The truth is, Lupin, it's immensely enjoyable having you under my thumb. Also, I'm an enterprising person and the opportunity to destroy two lives and a four year relationship all for the price of losing a little beauty sleep is just too much to resist." **

"**Right."**

"**Of course, do what I say and nothing need be destroyed at all. Except for your self-respect, perhaps, but how often did you really use it?"**

**Lupin said nothing. He was trying to ignore the sneaking suspicion that he had just signed away his own soul… He had to get away from Malfoy before he said anything else he would regret.**

"**Goodnight, Malfoy." He started back towards the castle but Malfoy put out an arm and caught him around the waist, yanking him close to whisper in his ear. "What do you call me, Lupin?" **

**A second later, Lupin jerked, body pulling away from the boy's touch in revulsion. "Goodnight. Lucius." **

"**Sweet dreams, Remus."**

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**A/N: Mreee, getting a little more interesting now, I hope. Big hugs and cybercookies if you review. Come on, people, you know you want hugs and cybercookies! XD TTFN folks. **


	3. First Quarter part 2

_The Darker End of Night_

_First Quarter pt.2_

_Disclaimer: See previous chapters._

_A/N: Thank you soo much to reviewing peoples. I really appreciate it. Well, here we are, the next chapter._ _To be honest, I've been more preoccupied with getting this chapter up than getting it perfect. I'll upload a better version some time soon. Now, though, on with the ficage…_

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"Remus, are you okay?" Sylvia stared at him from across the table as though he had a hideous, disfiguring plague. "You look like death."

"Thank you." He reached blearily for the pumpkin juice, eyes squinting with exhaustion.

"The whole tower heard you arguing with Sirius last night." Lupin froze. "You don't need to be embarrassed. Everyone fights." Merlin, simpering acceptance was not what he wanted this morning, nor any other morning but particularly not… "What was it about anyway?" Oh Hell.

He swallowed thickly and stared at the empty plate in front of him. "Nothing. Nothing much." Sylvia nodded sympathetically and left him to gaze into the infinite depths of his juice.

Harry was watching still, growing anxious as the memory drew on. It had better finished before Lupin and Tonks returned or there would be trouble.

As Lupin got up from his seat, food untouched on his plate, a figure detached itself from the other side of the hall and strode quickly after him. It caught up in the entrance hall.

"I want a word with you, Lupin." The Gryffindor stopped dead.

"Fuck off, Malfoy." The warning cough corrected him; he pivoted on his heels and gave a sweetly false smile. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry, your highness. Fuck off, _Lucius_." By some miraculous feat, he even persuaded 'Lucius' to rhyme with 'scum of the Earth'. The Slytherin's face didn't so much soften as congeal into an expression of mocking sympathy.

"Poor Lupin. You must have forgotten what we spoke of last night. This is how it works, Lupin." The voice sharpened into whetted flint. "I know something about you which you don't want _anybody _to know. I don't tell anyone and _you_ have to do whatever I tell you to do. Understand, Lupin?"

Damn it, he could see no advantage in arguing. With a sigh of resignation, Lupin struggled to keep his mouth shut on the obscenities that sprang reflexively to mind; his shoulders sagged in defeat. "Well? What do you want… Lucius?" His submission drew a satisfied smile.

"Let's be frank, Lupin. Classes start up again in three days." Did they really? Time had flown… "Let's just say that I could use a little more of a rest than that."

_I bet you do, _Lupin wanted to remark, _if you're up all night blackmailing passers-by. _

"Another day or two's grace would be most welcome, know what I mean, Lupin?"

Lupin laughed, unsmiling. "You're out of luck, Lucius. Even I can't slow down time." He turned to walk away from this pointless exchange, but…

"I don't take kindly to having backs turned to me, Lupin." Reluctantly, Lupin swung back, seeing the futility of resistance.

"Then what?" Curse that smugly triumphant smile.

"I might not feel inclined to begin working at full tilt again right away. But, of course, it wouldn't be proper for me to do badly. What ever would my father think?" Lucius paced casually across the hall in front of the Gryffindor, as though alone, speaking only to himself. "Now, if only I had a willing slave to make sure my homework stayed up to date." _Willing _slave? Lupin only just managed to check his protest. Just as well. Lucius turned slowly back to face him. "Oh wait, I do."

He had seen it coming; how could he not? But… "You're joking."

"Oh, if only I were, dear Lupin. Of course, I'm not an unreasonable taskmaster. I will only expect you to do the work for those classes we have in common."

"Gracious of you." Lupin muttered under his breath; Malfoy caught it.

"What was that, Lupin?" His eyes locked suspiciously on the boy.

Intuition telling him, frantically, that that warning glare meant him no good, Lupin murmured apologetically. "Nothing."

"Good. Now, I must return to my companions, or else they will worry." That Lupin found highly unlikely. "I'll see you in class, Lupin."

There came a violent flicker, as though someone had flipped an old creaking switch on the world. Harry struggled to keep his balance as his surroundings stuttered into blackness. Light returned, and he was standing, somewhat shakily, in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom; looking around there was Lupin, Sirius, James – the presence of these two still gave Harry's unguarded psyche a painful jar – Peter… and Lucius. There were other too, of course, and Harry probably knew the spawn of some of them; none were familiar. Nor was the teacher standing at the front of the class. His voice was a drone to rival even Professor Binns'; it was no wonder James and Sirius were busily bewitching a wooden horse to trot around between them, tiny hooves never quite touching the wood of the desk – well, Lupin had always told him they were brilliant. It looked like he had been right. Harry was so caught up in watching them that he almost missed what must be the point in his being there in the first place.

"So, you will all choose a species on which to write a report, and I want no less than four feet on this. You may include diagrams in that. Hand it in next Friday." He looked towards the back of the room where Lucius had raised his hand. "Yes, Mister Malfoy?"

With an ingratiating smile, the boy put down his hand and began, "Sir, I was wondering if I might attempt a piece of work on all ten species." It seemed that only Harry saw the way Lupin blanched, his posture tensing minutely. "I simply find dragons so fascinating, sir." His cruelly twinkling eyes flickered to Lupin's face; stony, grave.

"What's Malfoy up to?" Sirius asked quietly, eyeing the boy suspiciously. James nodded in agreed curiosity.

"I know he's always thrived on being every teacher's pet, but I've never known him do any _work_ for it. I thought he just lived of Daddy's connections." Lupin said nothing. Luckily for him, the Professor didn't seem to be impressed by Lucius' eager enquiry.

"No, Malfoy, that seems a little excessive to me. You may choose _three_ species, since you're so enthusiastic, but I'm not marking any more than that. I've quite enough to do as it is, thank you very much." Lucius looked distinctly disappointed. "You can all go now. I know the bell hasn't quite gone yet but, unless anyone else wants to try their hand at sucking up, I would like to eat my sandwiches in peace. Go, be gone, get out of my sight." He shooed them all away, though no one wasted any time in leaving, all relishing the extra ten minutes of freedom before the rest of the school was released from lessons. It seemed, in spite of his voice - which could have bored a flobberworm to death – Rupole was one of the school's best liked teachers of the time; Harry gleaned as much from the excited chatter of departing students.

"So, to the dining room?" Peter suggested eagerly, squinty little eyes sparkling hungrily. Sirius agreed heartily and they turned back for the others' opinions. James shrugged helplessly.

"Can't. Quidditch practice. What kind of captain would I be if I let the rest of my team get there ahead of me? And I've still got to get the Abraxan from the tower." Slinging his rucksack over his shoulder, he jogged away, up the stairs towards Gryffindor tower with a backwards wave to the others behind him.

"Just the three of us, then." Peter sighed. At that moment, Lucius walked past them, oh so casually catching Lupin's eye as he turned the corner. Lupin felt his throat tighten for a second before the sharp grey eyes were gone. A voice yanked him back to the land of the living.

"Moony? Earth calling Moony. Can you hear me Major Tom?" The boy, who - in order to irritate his fiercely pureblood parents – had defiantly developed a penchant for David Bowie and an array of other muggle musicians, was staring at him, his expression apparently unable to make a firm decision between amusement and concern.

"Hmm?" Lupin blinked like someone shaken abruptly awake.

"I said, we should get going or we'll get left with the rickety, rotting benches again and will have wasted our precious gift of," He glanced down at his watch and made a face. "Six minutes." The thought of food made Lupin's stomach churn, rickety benches or no. The thought of sitting through lunch with Sirius made his stomach constrict; he shook his head, knocking waves of blonde fringe into his face, trying to clear the memory of that vicious gaze.

"You two go. I… I want to get a start on this dragon thing for Rupole." Peter looked ready enough to run off without him, but Sirius hesitated. He looked about to question him, ask if this was about their fight – still unmentioned and unresolved, after nearly a week now – but courage, it seemed, failed him.

"The ever-studious Moony." He commented wistfully. "Don't starve yourself." With that, and a hasty wave from Peter, they disappeared down the corridor. Lupin was easily forgotten, it seemed; they were already arguing over Quidditch teams when they turned the corner. The boy watched his friends depart, for a moment unable to move from his place. He would have to go to the library, he supposed. The others didn't need to know he was doing three extra reports. They probably wouldn't even ask.

Harry, watching Lupin standing as though shell-shocked, felt time flicker again; it was as if history was rattling over a patch of static. When time settled around him again, it was late. The library clock now dead in front of him read almost midnight. Lupin was still pouring in earnest over a great heap of dusty leather-bound books. His hair bore the unsightly signs of anxiously tugging fingers and his hands were ink-stained. By the looks of it, though, he wasn't doing too badly. Three of four –projects were already piled neatly in front of him.

"Burning the midnight oil, Lupin. Good. Good. Glad to see you taking such an enthusiastic approach." Harry almost leapt into the air in surprise at the voice's piercing intrusion. He hadn't seen Malfoy concealed where he was between the shelves. Nor, it seemed, had Lupin. He cursed softly as his hand jerked, knocking dark blue ink across his last few lines. Seeing this, Malfoy tsked, shaking his head. "Oh dear, Lupin, what a shame."

Lupin inhaled sharply, in the middle of dabbing in vain at the puddle of ink. "What are you doing here, Ma-… Lucius? Stuck doing some work for yourself? Poor dear."

Malfoy laughed that chilling laugh of his as he prowled closer through the library's deep bars of shadow. "I've not become that desperate yet, thank you Lupin. Just looking after my interests." Without looking around, Lupin gave a short, humourless laugh and raked the little heap of rolls towards the boy.

"There." Lucius picked up the top one and ran an appraising eye over it.

"Very good, Lupin. I _am _pleased." The eye flickered back to Lupin, still bent industriously over his own homework. His expression deepened into a frown. "Poor Remus. I can't be working you too hard already, can I? Why, I'd never have expected a few little essays to take their toll so quickly." He was ignored, though Harry was itching to wipe the putrid false apology off the bastard's face. "Maybe I can do something to ease the load?"

Remus gave a dischanted snort and reached out again to nudge the scrolls even nearer the edge of the desk. "You want to help? You can take your damn dragon studies and leave me alone." He didn't turn as he said any of this; it looked, to Harry, as though he were trying to convince himself that Lucius was no longer there. As Malfoy's hand dropped into his peripheral vision to retrieve the parchment, Harry was sure he flinched minutely, just for a second. The projects were tucked away in Lucius' robe but he made no move to depart; he stayed, unperturbed, by Lupin's shoulder.

"Oh, now, now Remus. There's no call to be like that. I'd like to help you." Remus let out a startled yelp as a pair of hands fell upon his shoulders. He stiffened sorely as sharp fingers began to knead his gritted muscles. But the surprise didn't take long to thaw. Remus jerked to his feet, forcing the probing hands away.

"What the Hell do you think you're doing Malfoy?" Harry could see his face, now, over Malfoy's shoulder. His eyes were wide and frightened, though he was trying furiously to compose himself.

"Just thought I could help you relax a little, Lupin." Lucius drawled. "Sorry to have startled you."

Remus muttered something that might have been, "Like_ Hell,_ you're sorry…"

Whatever it was, Lucius let it be, in favour of: "But really, how many times must I request it of you, Remus?" He took a step closer. Remus tried to widen the gap again, but found the desk in his way. _Oh Merlin… _"Is it so hard just to call me Lucius? Isn't it really rather a nice name, once you say it a few times?" Another step, and the Slytherin raised a hand to touch Remus' cheek; Remus made a noise of protest and recoiled, but had nowhere to move. The hand slipped over his cheek and made its slick, caressing way into the dusky blonde hair. "Don't you _like_ my name, Remus?" Before Remus could react the fingers tightened, yanking his head backwards. Whimpering in pain, he hit out at Lucius' chest, but that only made it worse. He could feel warm breath on his throat and his skin crawled. _OhGodohGodohGodoh… _"Isn't it a nice name, Remus?"

"Beautiful," the Gryffindor wrenched out through fast-gritted teeth, eyes screwed up with pain and anger. Harry couldn't stand to watch this… but that was all he could do… he _couldn't _help him!

"Mm, that's what I thought, Remus." Lucius smiled, lips curling cruelly. He started to run a long, bony finger up from Remus' collar to his chin, but it found itself knocked aside. Far from giving up though, Lucius caught the protesting hand and pressed a kiss to its palm, in spite of the near-slap his troubles earned. "Don't be like that, Remus. After all, you wouldn't want me to do anything you'd regret, would you?" He pressed a swift kiss to the bared throat, before letting the Gryffindor drop limply and heading for the door. "And thank you for the essays, Remus," he called back, without looking and him. Lupin couldn't watch him leave, just clung to the table edge trembling. What had he done?

Harry's spitting rage was suddenly broken with a yell of surprise. The world flashed and he was lying on his back on the carpet in Grimauld Place. And Lupin was standing over him, wand drawn. Tonks stood behind him, looking as frightened as Harry had ever seen her. "What did you think you were doing?" The man hissed, barely keeping his wand arm from shaking. "What the _Hell_ did you think you were doing?"

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_A/N: And that's it for now, folks. I'm sorry for the shameful way I semi-abandoned this fic. Sooo many other projects happening. But I'm coming back to it, by degrees. Please don't give up on me!_

_Reviews, as always, are most definitely welcome. Thank you for reading, my loves. TTFN._


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